Psychopathology of a Girl // [Ghosty]

When I arrive at work, my supervisor hands me a file.

”Got an interesting case study for you,” she says, and I set down my cup of coffee to examine the name on the file.

”Pandora Blair,” I say, reading aloud. ”Sounds familiar. Where’s she at?”

”Room six, if you want to go talk to her.”

While I’m good with ideas and concepts, names are a different story entirely. I’m better at remembering faces, interpreting facial expressions to their final details, but for some reason I can’t exactly place how I know this Pandora Blair. I’m left to shrug the thought away as I pick up my coffee mug and slide through a door down the hall, smiling warmly as I walk into the room. The first step is establishing trust, or this girl – even though she’s clearly here for a reason – won’t tell me anything of use.

The room is casual, just a desk and a few comfortable chairs settled around it. Setting my coffee and the file down neatly on the table, I take a seat and observe the girl sitting before me. I still can’t place how I know her, but all the same, my past experiences with her aren’t relevant in the slightest.

”Hi, Pandora,” I say, reaching out my hand to shake. ”I’m Runa. As I understand it, you’ve asked to speak with somebody today?”